


Apples and Oranges

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: Neville doesn't know much about grocery shopping, but he still knows more than Pansy.





	Apples and Oranges

**Author's Note:**

> Teenyfic using the prompts Neville/Pansy and 'stranded'. Written July 2010.

Neville fumbled in his pocket for the weekly shopping list as he entered the grocery store, unfolding the scrap of parchment and scanning it while reaching for a trolley. It was a lengthy list; sharing a flat with two other young and perpetually hungry men tended to do that. At least Dean knew how to cook. Neville could make a few simple dishes, while Seamus couldn’t boil water without mishap. 

None of them particularly enjoyed shopping for groceries, and rotated the duty between them. This week was Neville’s turn.

“Well, looks like someone lost their last house elf,” someone said behind him, voice filled with malicious humour. “If you’re looking for laxatives, they’re at the apothecary across the street. You look like you could use one!”

Turning, Neville saw only the back of a blond head and a trill of laughter before catching the eye of Pansy Parkinson. Privately, he had to admit that with her tightly pursed lips and flaring nostrils she did look a bit constipated. Constipated, embarrassed, and lost.

“Here to point and mock too, Longbottom?” Pansy asked, lifting her chin. “You’re standing right there, might as well.”

“Actually, I’m here to buy food,” Neville replied.

He knew the story, of course. Many of the old pureblood families supporting Voldemort had suffered heavy penalties resulting in equally heavy financial losses following the end of Voldemort’s second war. Some, like the Malfoys and Greengrasses, had managed to stay afloat. Others, like the Parkinsons, hadn’t been so fortunate. Things must be dire indeed if Pansy had been reduced to buying her own groceries. No wonder she looked like a stranded fish. This very well _could_ be her first time inside a supermarket.

“Is this your first time here?” he asked. “It’s a bit confusing at first until you learn the layout. Grab a trolley and follow me.” Tapping the trolley with his wand, he followed it into the store as it lurched into motion. He could already hear the sound of Seamus laughing inside his head, teasing him for his misbegotten sense of chivalry.

After a few moments he risked a glance behind him, finding Pansy and her trolley practically at his heels. He paused, giving her a chance to pull alongside. She pointedly didn’t look at him, dark eyes sweeping coolly over the produce section.

“Where’s the milk?” she asked, frowning.

“Nearly at the opposite side of the store, with the eggs and cheese,” Neville replied, and sighed. “Look, the perimeter of the store has all the fresh stuff. You have produce, which has all the fresh fruits and vegetables. Next to produce is the bakery, which is self-explanatory. Next to that is the fish counter, then the meat counter. After that’s where you’ll find eggs and dairy, and on the other end is ice cream and other frozen foods. Everything else is in one of the aisles.”

“I – I think I’ll just follow you,” Pansy said.

The thought of Pansy following him through the store like a lost puppy didn’t hold much appeal, chivalry or no. “Do you have a shopping list?” Neville asked. “I could mark which aisle has what item. It would simplify things.”

Pansy shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Right.” Neville nudged his trolley back into motion. “We’ll start with produce.”

Neville had only intended to pick up potatoes and onions, some mushrooms, and perhaps a few tomatoes. Pansy, however, suddenly wanted to know how she could tell whether or not the spinach was fresh, how to tell the difference between a ripe and unripe peach, and if lettuce was still good even if it was a bit brown at the edges. She asked salad questions, the sort of things Neville knew only because of his background in Herbology, not actual practice. 

By the time they reached the meat counter and he described how one roast chicken could stretch into three separate meals, Neville was beginning to think Pansy might pull a notepad and quill from her purse to scribble notes. She’d certainly never hung onto his every word as she was currently doing.

Fortunately, Pansy noticed the aisles had signs, which meant Neville wouldn’t have to guide her through the pasta and rice. He wouldn’t have been able to tell her the difference between basmati and jasmine, anyway.

“I think I can handle everything from here,” she said, studying the aisle containing tea, coffee, and cereal. “I can read labels by myself.” She hesitated a moment, a hint of the sour, nearly constipated expression she’d worn when Neville first saw her standing in the store entry flickering across her face. Schooling her features, she added stiffly, “Thank you for helping me and not rubbing my ignorance in my face. I couldn’t have done nearly so well without your advice. I’m...grateful.”

“You’re welcome,” Neville answered, hiding his surprise. Thanked by a Slytherin...Seamus would have a field day when he learned about this. So would Dean, for that matter. “I guess I’ll be off, then...”

“I owe you,” Pansy pressed on stubbornly. “I can’t do much, but if it’s in my power, it’s yours. I can actually brew a halfway decent cup of tea. Coffee too, if you prefer. The biscuits will have to be from the bakery, though.”

“Is that an invitation?” This was certainly an unexpected twist, Neville thought. “I, um, I like tea.”

“Tomorrow, then. Three o’clock. I’ll owl you.” Pansy glanced again at the aisle sign and turned into it, heading directly for the tea selection. Neville watched her go, and shook his head before resuming his own shopping.

He was going to have tea with Pansy. Who would believe it?


End file.
